


Home Is Where You Are

by Fanficchica



Category: White Collar
Genre: Friendship, Gen, Possibly Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-16
Updated: 2019-01-16
Packaged: 2019-10-11 06:47:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,997
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17441951
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fanficchica/pseuds/Fanficchica
Summary: Two years after he learns Neal is alive, Peter decides it's time to bring his family home.





	Home Is Where You Are

**Author's Note:**

> I’ve had this on the back burner for a while but I think it’s finally ready for the world. This is my take on how I wish Neal and Burkes would reunite and can be read as possible pre-slash. 
> 
> Please do leave a review; they make me so happy! 
> 
> Disclaimer: I don’t own White Collar.

Peter takes a deep breath, his eyes roving the midnight black sky spread outside. Subconsciously, his hand curls around El’s and he smiles softly as she squeezes their fingers together even in sleep. Turning away from the window, he leans sideways in his plane seat to press a kiss to her temple. 

Then he looks over to the bassinet where his two-year-old son sleeps. Peter is grateful that Neal is not a fussy baby and that he’s taken to air travel fairly well. It gives Elizabeth a chance to rest and make sure that Peter isn’t hated by the rest of the passengers on their 7-hour flight to Paris. 

Paris. The city of love. Home to the Eiffel tower. And for the last two and a half years; the home of one supposedly dead Neal Caffrey. 

Peter closes his eyes to stave off the burn of tears that always seem to make an appearance whenever he thinks of his best friend. The relief that flooded him when he took in the contents of the storage container was enough to buckle his knees and his first instinct was to drop everything and rush after the man, just like he’d done at Cape Verde. 

But he stopped to take a breath and allow logic to push through; if there was one thing he knew about Neal Caffrey, it was that he never did anything without a purpose. 

He had cause to fake his death and as Peter thought it out, he understood why his friend had made contact only after a year. The Pink Panthers’ reach extended far beyond the confines of any prison and Peter knew that he had to be careful lest he unravel all of Neal’s carefully constructed plans. 

So he bides his time and tells no one of what he’s learned. The container’s locked up and the key takes a small discreet corner in his safe. On his downtime, he conducts his research. 

He finds leads as museums and art shows in Paris update their security systems with the help of an anonymous benefactor. Works are curated by a mysterious individual who never gives his name but whose word is held in the highest regard. Peter collects these clues and he waits; waits when for the right time to move. 

He gets his chance when Neal turns two. Their lives have reached a routine and Peter figures now’s a good time as any to make his move. 

He cashes in his numerous vacation days, puts Jones in charge for the time he’ll be away and gives Moz a key to his house (after exacting an iron clad promise that the man wouldn’t bug their home). 

Then he presents El with three tickets for a two week long getaway to Paris and a week later they’re on their way. He doesn’t tell her the real reason behind the trip; part of him is afraid that Neal may not be there after all this time and he would have just raised their hopes for nothing. 

So he keeps quiet and laughs as El turns into a whirlwind, packing two suitcases and a baby bag and amassing a quick collection of guide books for Paris.

It’s dark when their flight finally touches the tarmac of the Charles de Gaulle Airport and Peter feels his heart thump against his chest as the wheels hit the asphalt. Neal wakes up with the impact but Peter takes him and the little boy is content to nestle in the crook of his father’s arms. El gets them through immigration quickly and after they pick up their bags, they hail a cab to the hotel. 

When they reach their hotel room, Neal starts to fuss a little so El gives him a bath and they enjoy a quick dinner through room service. Then they curl up in the big bed of their room and his wife and son succumb to their fatigue. 

But Peter doesn’t sleep. Not yet. His senses are on high alert and he steps out into the balcony to gaze at the lit-up Eiffel Tower that merrily twinkles away. Somewhere in this city, Neal Caffrey is alive and well and it makes Peter’s heart thud at the thought of seeing his best friend after two years. 

He draws the curtains and allows himself to curl into the bed with his family and he promises himself; tomorrow. 

Tomorrow he will find Neal Caffrey and he will bring him home. 

Ooo

He doesn’t find Neal the next day. Or the day after. 

They take multiple trips to the various museums that Peter knows Neal has associated with; he goes through the 27 known aliases the man has in abundance but each lead ends up being a dead end. 

Neal has taken great pains to cover his tracks and no one is forthcoming with any information. 

With every dead end, Peter feels the weight of his failures bear him down and it doesn’t take El long to understand something is wrong. 

Truthfully, Peter’s surprised he’s managed to hide from her for so long; he’s never been able to lie to his wife and he’s not about to start now. 

With Neal summarily distracted by his toys in one corner of the room, Elizabeth takes that moment to catch Peter on the balcony, the afternoon sun beating down on him. 

Elizabeth slips her hand into his and leans against his shoulder. Her voice is soft, free of judgement when she speaks.

“Are you going to tell me what’s going on or am I going to have to drag it out of you?” 

And Peter thinks in that moment that maybe he should really stop underestimating his wife. She’s strong; stronger than he would ever be. She can share his hope and she will help him when their hope breaks. 

So he tells her. Tells her about the key to the storage container, about Neal Caffrey’s greatest con, about how he protected all of them and with each word, El’s eyes glaze over until the tears spill onto her cheeks. 

But there’s a smile on her face when she looks at him.

“He’s alive? And he’s here? You sure?” 

“I think so. I haven’t found him so far but-”

“But you’re the only one who can.” El finishes for him and she cups Peter’s cheek. “Find our boy, Peter Burke and you bring him home, you hear me? He has two years worth of baby sitting to make up for.”

And Peter can’t help himself; he throws his head back and laughs. Laughs as their son toddles over on his little legs and clutches his trousers. Neal’s brown eyes look earnestly up to Peter and he reaches down for his son. 

“Just you wait, champ. We’re gonna bring back your Uncle Neal and your mama’s gonna give him hell for making us wait so long.” 

Ooo

With Elizabeth in his corner, Peter resumes his quest with a fervor. One by one, they narrow their search and retrace what they think are Neal’s steps until finally they are two days away from returning back to New York. 

Elizabeth; bless her heart, does not give up hope even then and she urges Peter to go back to the Louvre to try his luck once again. The statuesque museum had been Peter’s first stop but when that yielded no results, he turned his sights to smaller venues. 

But he takes El’s advice to heart and they take another trip to the triangular dome. They spend the day being part tourist and part detective and its past noon when Elizabeth hands him their son to find them lunch. 

Peter drops onto one of the many benches within the museum, his arms and head full of Neal. As his window draws to a close, Peter feels his chance slipping away with every passing second. 

Much like his namesake, Neal takes that moment to get loose. It takes Peter a second to realize that his son isn’t with him anymore and the panic that suffuses him is both imminent and familiar. 

Whipping his head around the interior, Peter is beyond grateful that the museum isn’t at its peak hours and he can see his little two-year-old waddling away around the corner. 

Peter gives chase immediately and he rounds the dark corner to see his son bumping into the back of a crouched figure. The man immediately puts out a hand to stop his son and Peter is grateful yet wary of the stranger touching his son. He moves forward with a stern look and scolding upon his lips.

“Neal!” 

Two heads turn as one and Peter’s words fade into nothing. Piercing blue eyes clash onto brown ones and all at once, Peter feels his world snap into place. 

“Peter.”

The word is a choked whisper full of disbelief and happiness and Peter stumbles forward in a daze. Neal opens his mouth to say something but the older man doesn’t give him a chance; he drops heavily onto his knees to pull his son and his best friend into his chest. 

Neal’s long (familiar) fingers find purchase on his back and Peter can’t help it. He breaks. 

All his pain, his fear, his relief; it all comes pouring out and Peter sobs into Neal’s chest. He holds on tight because despite the warm flesh under his hand and the beating heart that tells him Neal is alive, Neal is here; Peter can’t let go of the niggling fear that he might be dreaming.

“You’re not dreaming Peter. I’m here. I’m here I promise.” Peter realizes he’s been mumbling out loud and he pulls back to stare at the familiar face he has missed. 

“I found you.”

Neal’s face crinkles into his easy grin, although his eyes are wet and he chuckles, “I never doubted that you wouldn’t, Peter Burke. You are the best for a reason.” 

Peter manages a wet laugh of his own and it is in that moment that his son makes his displeasure known at being crushed between two grown men. 

Neal chuckles and sits back to look at Peter’s son, “Sorry buddy, didn’t mean to squeeze you. What’s your name?”

But the little boy grows shy and he hides his face in his father’s neck so Peter answers for him. 

“His name is Neal. We named him after you. El agreed with me.” 

Neal’s face is a mix of disbelief, awe and pride and it makes Peter’s heart swell.

The blue-eyed man leans forward to tap the little boy on the shoulder and he smiles, “Hi Neal. My name is Neal too. I’m your dad’s friend.”

“Best friend.” Peter counters and he stands up with his son in his arms and extends a free arm to the grown man still seated on the floor before him. 

“Come on. El’s gonna want to see you and trust me, you’re not getting away from her that easy again.” 

Neal laughs and takes the proffered hand, standing up to his full height, “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

Ooo

They make their way back to the bench and Elizabeth spots them first. Her eyes widen and the bag of sandwiches slip from her fingers as she stands up. 

Neal hardly has a moment to say hi before the brunette is in his arms and she’s laughing and crying and Neal allows himself to bury his nose in the comfortable and familiar smell of Elizabeth Burke. 

The next second, he grunts, because Elizabeth pulls back and whacks him right in the gut, her eyes blazing. 

“Don’t you ever do that again; do you hear me? I swear to you Caffrey, I will gut you and string you up in front of the Empire State Building the next time you have the stupid idea of faking your death, you ridiculous bas-”

“I missed you too Elizabeth.” 

And then Elizabeth is laughing again and Peter is pulling both of them into his arms along with his son and finally, finally, the weight that’s been bearing him down for the past two years disappears as his family comes together as one. 

Ooo

Neal takes them to his home, a beautiful apartment condo that overlooks the Seine. Elizabeth puts Neal Jr. down for a nap while Neal Sr. putters around the kitchen whipping them up lunch.   
He pours them each a glass of Bordeaux, sending a small smile towards Peter as he hands him the glass. 

Then as they settle onto the couches, Neal tells them of how his life has changed in the last few years. He’s turned his con artist ways into an honest trade, helping museums update their security and curating items. Ironically enough he’s also helped Interpol on some of their white-collar cases, though he’s been using the pseudonym Nathaniel Blackmore to hide his identity. 

When the news of the Panthers’ life sentences reached him, Neal deemed it was probably safe to let Peter know he was alive and well. 

“Though I had no idea if you were going to try and reach out to me. I mean I hoped but after I heard nothing for the first six months, I thought maybe you didn’t want to see me after what I did to you.” 

Neal’s voice goes soft and Peter remembers a different time when a drugged Neal had bared his soul and his vulnerability. 

He reaches out for him but Elizabeth is faster. She seats herself next to the blue-eyed man and squeezes his hand, “We missed you Neal. So much that it was struggle everyday to live without you. I, Mozzie and Peter, even Diana and Clinton; we missed you everyday. So I am beyond glad and grateful that we have another chance with you. Don’t you dare think we aren’t happy to see you, understand?” 

Neal sags into Elizabeth and Peter takes that as his cue to join them. He perches himself on the arm rest of the couch and threads his arm around the chiseled shoulders, “Come home Neal. Come home to New York. Please.”

There’s a war going on in those blue eyes and part of Peter thinks he knows why. Paris has always held a special place in Neal’s heart ever since Kate but so has New York, Mozzie, the FBI and the Burkes themselves. They hold a piece of Neal so dear that to have it be ripped away again might just create a visceral wound. 

Peter runs a hand through Neal’s hair to get him to look up. The young con man looks lost and uncertain, a look Peter is unaccustomed to seeing on the normally cocky man. He offers a smile, “I know Paris is special to you it always has been. But so is New York. You will always have a home there and a family.”

Peter takes a deep breath and speaks his next words with great care, “So when you do decide to come back, we will be waiting for you. We’ll wait however long it takes. You’re worth that much.” 

Neal looks like a young boy once again as he turns and buries his head in Peter’s stomach and El leans forward to wrap him in a hug. A look at her eyes tells Peter that he’s said the right thing. 

Words are whispered into Peter’s shirt, “I’ll come home soon. Not now but soon I promise.” 

“Then we’ll be waiting for you.” Is the fervent promise from Elizabeth and Neal’s answering smile is blinding. 

Ooo

On the day they’re due to travel back, Neal sees them off at the airport. Neal Jr. is still a little shy around his namesake but he deigns to give a small wave from where he’s hiding in Elizabeth’s hair. Neal laughs and presses a kiss to Elizabeth’s cheeks and pulls Peter in for a hug. 

He whispers his promise of coming home soon in his ear. Peter squeezes him in response and then they’re through the gates and on the flight home. 

Secured in their seats, El reaches for Peter’s hand and squeezes. Her smile is a balm to the fear that they’ve just left a member of their family behind. But her touch reminds Peter; Neal would be home soon. 

After all, home wasn’t really home without their con artist. They’d waited two years for him, they could wait a bit more. 

Ooo

Time flies by after they return to New York but they get no word from Neal. They don’t tell anyone the truth as per his wishes and the Burkes simply go on with their lives. 

They go to work and they keep Neal’s secret close to their hearts. 

Every night, Peter finds Elizabeth’s hand and he squeezes it tight, whispering their promise in the darkness of their room, “Neal will come home soon.” 

And Elizabeth squeezes back with a smile, “Yes he will.” 

Days turn into months; the seasons change and suddenly, Thanksgiving is upon them and Satchmo is ruining all his raking efforts. 

Peter still gets no word from Neal but he tries not to let it weigh him down. Instead he invites Mozzie, Clinton and Diana down to his home for Thanksgiving dinner. It’s a struggle getting Mozzie to make an appearance but the opportunity to meet both Teddy and Neal Jr. is far too great and he acquiesces with a half-hearted protest. 

When the time comes to remember what they are thankful for, Peter and Elizabeth share simple words about their son and joys they have created for themselves. 

It is only once everyone has left and Elizabeth has secured a promise from Mozzie to visit more that Peter takes up his glass once again, words ready for what he is grateful for. 

But he never gets the chance. 

Because the lock in his entrance clicks open and the door swings open to reveal- 

“Hi guys.” 

Neal Caffrey has come home. 

Ooo 

A.N: As always, I love to hear from you guys.


End file.
